Page 36 of A Court of Thralls and Thorns

A test of whether we could hold their suffering within us—carry it—and still stand.

I tried to rise.

I failed.

The whispers surrounded me, closing in.

“I see you.” The words came out broken, torn. But they were from my soul. “I won’t let your story be forgotten.”

The echoes stopped.

Something shifted.

And then, at the center of the cavern, a faint glow appeared.

A single drop of liquid light. Suspended in the air.

The Dragon’s Tear.

I forced my arms to move. My legs to obey. I crawled toward it, my body screaming, blood dripping from my skin.

And then, with one last ragged breath, I touched it.

Pain exploded in my skull?—

And the world vanished.

I didn’t walk toward the exit. I stumbled, battered, broken, the taste of agony still on my tongue. The other cadets emerged around me—some weeping openly, others hollow-eyed, all marked by what they had endured.

None of us spoke.

We couldn’t.

Because what we had felt would never leave us.

And we would never be the same.

The cold night air bit into my skin as I stumbled out of the cavern, my vision swimming with exhaustion. My legs barely held me upright, and every breath sent fire lancing through my ribs. Blood—my blood—was drying in jagged lines across my arms, my back, my shoulders. The marks burned, a deep ache that felt like it had seeped into my bones.

Zander stood near the horses, arms crossed, his dragon looming behind him like a living fortress. But the second his gaze landed on me, something cracked in his usual mask of indifference.

“Ashe—”

He moved before I could process it, striding toward me with something dangerously close to urgency. He grabbed my jacket from where I had left it draped over my saddle and swung it around my shoulders, his hands firm but careful.

“What in Korham’s name happened to you?” Jax’s voice cut through the stunned silence, his eyes wide as he took in my wounds.

I barely had the strength to shake my head. Despite Jax’s question, the God of War had no say in this. My squad stood around me—hollow-eyed, shaken—but unharmed. No gashes. No blood. Their dragons had shielded them.

Only I had been left to bleed.

“The dragons,” I whispered, the truth settling like a rock in my gut.

Tae let out a low whistle. “Damn, Ashe. Your dragon should have protected you.”

I snorted, though it hurt like a bastard. “Kaelith is not the coddling type.”

“At least she’s talking to you,” Tae muttered, shaking his head. “But that could have killed you.”